Romancing the One
by ncisloverinnc
Summary: Sam and Callen come to Nell's rescue, but does she need a knight in shining armor? Title based on the online dating site from "Neighborhood Watch".
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

"Really, G.?" asked Sam incredulously, as he emerged from the Mercedes in front of a very tony steakhouse. "Would it kill you to eat a chicken breast once in a while?"

G. Callen shot his partner a look. "Why would I want to eat chicken when I can have grass fed, free range, all Angus, red meat? Especially," his eyes twinkled, "when you' re buying."

The ex-SEAL shook his head and smirked. "When it's your turn to buy, I'm taking you to this little vegan place I know. Your arteries will thank me, someday." He winked at the senior agent as the valet took the keys to the car.

"My arteries may get shot again tomorrow," Callen grinned. "So, tonight, they eat steak."

The two men made their way inside the restaurant, where they were greeted at the hostess stand by a very attractive blonde.

"Hello, Mr. Cooper," she addressed Callen with a flirtatious smile. "Your table is ready. Right this way." She eyed Sam up and down before gracing him with a smile, then turned with hips swinging and led them to a quiet corner table. "Let me know if you need _anything_," she emphasized.

The agents watched the hostess walk away, then Sam turned to Callen with a raised eyebrow. "Come here often, _Mr. Cooper_?"

"Previous op, long story," Callen shot back with a smirk. "Now put your eyes back in your head and prepare for the beef experience of a lifetime."

As they perused their menus, a loud, male voice could be heard across the restaurant. The man appeared to be boasting about himself, and his personal exploits.

"I didn't think they let guys like that in places like this," Callen shook his head as he took a long sip of beer.

Sam gaped. "They let you in, didn't they?"

His partner glared for a moment. "Point taken."

The waiter returned for their orders, and the two relaxed into their seats, enjoying their drinks and chatting amiably. Once again, the quiet ambiance of the restaurant was broken by boisterous laughter from the same man as before. The agents visually searched the dining room for the offender, and spotted a handsome young man that Sam recognized as an up-and-coming hotshot he had seen featured recently in a local magazine. But more surprising than the recognition of the loud man was the identity of his dining companion. Because there, across from him, wearing a little black dress and sipping $100 Cabernet, sat Nell Jones.

"Is that our Nell?" Sam asked, stunned at the sight before them. "Doesn't seem like her type."

Callen remained silent and observed the couple. The first thing that struck him was that he had never seen the intelligence analyst wearing anything quite so dressy. Or revealing. The second thing was the incongruity of the quiet young woman with a such a boorish man. And she looked none too happy about her predicament.

"Date?" Sam speculated.

"Blind date," Callen guessed. "Look at her body language. She's screaming to get away from him."

"Wouldn't you?" A smile played at the corners of Sam's mouth.

Their dinners arrived, and for the moment, the conversation was abandoned. But Callen kept a surreptitious eye on the couple. He couldn't quite stem the disquiet that stirred in his gut over the situation. Nell didn't appear to be in any danger, although she did seem to be annoyed by her date's behavior. The man had spent more time on his cell than he had with Nell, but Callen conceded that while rude, it was no crime. But Callen's feelings ran deeper than just worrying that she was dating a jerk. If he dug deeper, he was bothered more by the fact that she was dating someone at all.

His thought process was interrupted by his partner waving a hand in front of Callen's face and calling his name repeatedly. It took a moment to realize that Sam had been talking to him. Before he could recall what they were discussing when he zoned out, Sam fixed him with a knowing look and interrupted his reverie.

"When?"

Now, Callen was truly confused. "When what?"

"Nell. When did it happen, G?"

The blue eyed agent shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Hanna quirked an eyebrow. "You've been distracted since we saw Nell and her date. What gives?"

"I'm just concerned about her," Callen responded, unconvincingly. "I mean, we know nothing about this guy."

"Do you do background checks on all the guys Kensi dates?" the big guy questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. At his partner's slightly sheepish look, Sam continued. "G, she's a grown woman. She can date whoever she wants, and she can take care of herself. Is the guy an ass? Probably. Is he a threat? Probably not. So, what's really bugging you? You have a thing for Nell, don't you?"

Callen's head jerked around in surprise. "I'm just looking after my teammates. You, Kensi, Deeks...you can all take care of yourselves. But Nell and Eric, I worry about."

"You didn't deny that you have a thing for her," Sam replied smugly. "I thought so. I've seen the way you ask her to do all your 'special projects'," he put in air quotes, "instead of Eric. And you always stand next to her during briefings. You follow her every move when she's walking around the building. You thought nobody would notice, huh? So, why haven't you asked her out?"

Sighing, Callen leaned back in his seat, eyes never leaving Nell's table. "It's complicated, Sam."

"Then make it uncomplicated. Do something good for yourself, G. And for her."

Before Callen could respond, they both noticed a slight skirmish from Nell's table. The guy she was with was holding his phone to one ear, and was motioning for Nell to wait a moment with the other hand. Nell, looking more irritated than ever, stood to walk away, but her date had taken hold of her arm. Callen immediately began to rise from his seat, but Sam held him back.

"Hang on, give her a chance to handle it."

Callen fumed, but remained seated. Nell's date actually appeared to be apologizing, and although she still seemed unconvinced, she sat back down. They continued to watch as the man returned to his phone call.

"We've gotta get her out of there," Callen stated matter-of-factly.

Sam had to concede. "How should we play it?"

After thinking for a moment, the Senior Agent came to a decision. Pulling out his own cell phone, he quickly sent Nell a text.

_Looks like fun. Want some company?_

Nell heard the ping of her phone, and noting that her date was embroiled in conversation on his own cell, she removed hers from her purse. Seeing the text from Callen, she opened and read it, brow furrowed. Recognition suddenly dawned on her, and she quickly scanned the room. When she spotted the two agents sitting in the corner, her eyes widened slightly. She was met with a two fingered wave from Sam and a smirk from Callen.

It was only a moment before Callen's phone vibrated.

_Help me, Obi Wan. You're my only hope._


	2. Chapter 2

It was official- Nell Jones was in hell. On a scale of bad life events, this ranked somewhere between the death of her dog when she was 12, and earning her only B in college. And the worst part was that this was a hell of her own making. Or at least partially her own.

She had been on bad dates before, but really, who hadn't? Even Kensi had some real winners on her résumé, but this guy definitely took the biggest loser prize. He even topped Dan, the guy Nell and her college roommates nicknamed "the Q-tip", because his kissing abilities were the oral equivalent of swabbing one's ears. Yes, she was in hell, alright.

The worst part was that not only was she trapped in her own personal nightmare, but now, there were witnesses. Adding insult to injury, Sam and Callen had not only seen Nell and her epic date fail, but had called her out on it, and forced her to admit she needed help escaping the idiot. Ironic, since not only was Callen providing the solution, but he was, unwittingly, a large part of the problem.

Although it made Nell a bit angry to admit it, it was her schoolgirl crush on the Senior Agent that kept her from having a successful relationship. G. Callen set the standard by which all of Nell's potential boyfriends were judged, and an impossibly high standard it was. After all, there weren't many guys out there who were handsome, mysterious, fearless, intelligent and sexy, all in one package. And unfortunately, the one she was currently sitting next to was none of the above. (Okay, he was handsome, she'd give him that.)

She hadn't had high hopes about this date from the outset, but the minute he ordered a $100 bottle of wine, she knew it was doomed. In retrospect, though, Nell figured she shouldn't really complain about that. The wine was probably the highlight of her evening. If he had ordered imported beer, she would've been out of there in 2 nanoseconds.

She had been on her second glass when he began to talk. And talk. And talk. About himself, mostly- his school (Stanford-strike one with Nell, a Yalie through and through), his grades (blahblahblah), his fraternity (Animal House, anyone?), and his current entrepreneurial ventures (yawn). He ordered for her without even inquiring about her likes and dislikes. Then, his phone rang, and after that, it was as if Nell had never existed.

So, she poured herself a third glass of wine and waited. And waited. And waited. Frustration finally reached its peak, and Nell decided enough was enough. When she tried to leave (under the auspices of going to the powder room, then ditching him), her date had the good sense to look embarrassed, and Nell felt her first inkling of hope about the night. Then, he returned to his conversation with a business associate.

But the most wonderful/horrible thing happened- Nell's phone dinged, indicating she had a text. Of course, Nell, being well-mannered, was going to ignore it, but when it appeared that her new friend was lost in his own world, she opened and read the message. From G. Callen. _Who (oh crap!) was apparently in the restaurant, watching the whole thing._

The young analyst blushed crimson when she found the two agents in the corner. She knew there would be a lot of explaining to do, and probably a lot of merciless teasing in her future. Especially if Deeks or Eric ever found out. But aside from just walking out on him, (she would never be able to shake the guilt, or her mother's voice in her head berating her over it), she really had no other recourse for escape. After a few seconds of contemplation, she decided to swallow her pride, and let the brains and the brawn make themselves useful. So, she quickly responded to Callen's text, finished the rest of her wine, and sat back to wait for the fireworks to begin.


	3. Chapter 3

"So...jealous boyfriend?"

"Nah, too suspicious," Callen replied, tapping his finger on his chin as he made a mental list of their options.

"How about this," Sam began. "We call her and tell her that her grandmother died and she needs to come home right away."

Callen shook his head. "That leaves the door open for him to ask her out again. It needs to be something...final."

Sam smirked at his partner. "_He's got it bad,"_ he thought. Suddenly, Sam's lips spread in an evil grin. "I've got it."

He began to outline his idea, and although Callen hated that they were going to do this to poor Nell, he agreed that it was an epic plan.

* * *

Nell was starting to get antsy. She thought her knights in shining armor were coming to her rescue, but they appeared to be deep in conversation, and in no hurry to leave. She sighed audibly, causing her date to look up in question.

Nell had reached her breaking point. "What?" she demanded.

The man paused in his commentary, scratched his head, and started, "You just...never mind. So anyway, as I was saying..." He began to drone on again, and Nell zoned out. She spared a glance toward Sam and Callen, only to find, much to her dismay, that they had vacated their table. It was now officially hopeless. She was stuck here, slightly drunk, very depressed, and bored to tears, with this oversized frat boy, for the rest of the night. So much for having friends you can count on. At least she could count on wine. Maybe one more glass...

As Nell reached for the bottle, a hand touched her arm. She immediately whirled toward her would-be attacker, and was shocked to see the face of G. Callen.

He left his hand on her arm, while he and Sam quickly flashed their credentials in the direction of her date. "Federal agents. Ma'am, we're gonna have to ask you to come with us."

Nell relaxed visibly, nodded, and started to get out of her seat, when her date suddenly leapt between her and the two agents.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Do you have any idea who I am?" he spat arrogantly.

Callen tightened his grip on Nell's arm, as Sam held up his hands in front of the man as if in surrender. "Of course we do- you're Brad Whittingdon, right?" He glanced at G. as if in confirmation, then smiled admiringly at Brad. "Most talked about man in L.A. in months. Self-made millionaire, entrepreneur, activist, all before age 30. The question is, Mr. Whittingdon, do you know who she is?" he jerked a thumb in Nell's direction.

Brad's facial expression went from irate, to proud, to confused, all in a matter of seconds. "I don't know what you mean. This is my date, Nan..."

"Oh, she's Nan, tonight, huh?" Sam smirked at Callen, who was shaking his head at Nell. "And last time she was Renee. Time before that she was Felice. Man, be glad we got here when we did. We just saved you a lot of heartache," the big man laughed. He returned his attention to Nell, who was being pulled to her feet by Callen.

The action caused Nell's date to shake his head, as if awakening from a dream. "Hey, so what? She gives me a fake name? That's not a crime. Now, get your hands off my date before I call the cops."

Callen's eyes bulged. "Man, she really has him fooled," he commented to Sam. "We are the cops, Mr. Whittingdon," he explained patiently to the blonde young man. "And your date here is wanted in connection with the murders of several rich, single young men like yourself. We have evidence that you were going to be her next victim."

It was unclear who gasped the loudest, Nell or Brad.

"Evidence, huh? Well, I'm calling my attorney right now," Brad shook off his surprise and began to take action. "Nan, I'll have this settled in no time. In the meantime, you aren't taking her anywhere."

Callen glanced uneasily at Sam. This guy wasn't as quick to take the bait as they had planned. And Callen really hadn't wanted to cause a scene, especially if he ever wanted to eat here as "Mr. Cooper" again.

Fortunately, Nell was tipsy enough to be affronted by Brad's actions. She pulled at Callen's arm as she turned toward her date. "Listen here, Brad," she spat, poking him in the chest with her index finger. "I have spent the entire night having you speak on my behalf, and listening to your incessant, self-absorbed prattle, and I have had enough!" She tottered on her high heels, as she folded her arms across her chest.

Callen fought the urge to snicker at the feisty redhead. He steadied her slightly, and gave her a stern glare. "Miss Smith, _if that's not another alias_, I suggest you come with us quietly, before I add drunk and disorderly to the charges against you."

"I am NOT drunk," Nell argued, as she again tried to wrench her arm free from Callen's grip. "I may have a slight buzz," she indicated, measuring with her fingers. "But I needed one in order to make it through dinner with Mr. Personality, here. He should be charged with boring women to death! You should be grateful you're rich and have a cute butt," she proclaimed, glaring at Brad.

Sam looked empathetically at Brad, who was glancing around to see if the little melee had been noticed by other diners. "Dude, consider yourself lucky the Black Widow here didn't take all your money and leave you to die like she did her last victim. I mean, look at her- that is just ratchet," he continued, pointing up and down at Nell.

The petite redhead turned on Sam, fury written all over her face. "Excuse me, but did you just call me ratchet?"

Callen and Brad both wore the same puzzled expression, until Brad finally queried, "Exactly what does ratchet mean?"

Before Sam had a chance to respond, Nell piped up, "Ratchet is an urban euphemism for a woman who hooks up with men to take their money. You know, like the L.L. Cool J song? What he's saying is that I'm a skank ho' gold digger! Unbelievable! Can't a girl just go out for a nice dinner once in a while?" She continued her indignant rant, hands on her hips, so fuzzy from the wine that she had forgotten that all of this was a ruse to rescue her.

The wheels in Callen's brain finally caught up to the fact that Nell was so inebriated that she was getting carried away. They needed to get out of there ASAP. With a slight nod to Sam, he once again took Nell's arm and began to walk toward the door. "Why don't I get our suspect here secured while you take Mr. Whittingdon's statement," he addressed his partner.

Sam distracted the young man long enough for Callen to steer Nell through the restaurant. She was clearly still annoyed, but at least she had stopped ranting. When they finally reached the car, Callen opened the door for her, and Nell unexpectedly burst into tears.

"Hey, what's that all about?" he gently placed a hand to her cheek, making her sob even harder. He pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back soothingly. "Nell, it's okay. You're out now. You're safe."

She pulled away from him slightly and gazed up into his blue eyes. "You thought I was in danger?"

"You wanted our help," Callen explained, his head cocked to one side, studying the young analyst. "He seemed harmless enough, but you said I was your only hope. I trusted my gut, we came to get you. End of story."

"Oh my God, Callen," Nell moaned, pulling away from him and flopping into the passenger seat with her head between her knees.

The Senior Agent knelt beside her. "Nell, what is it?" He was starting to really get worried. He had never seen the redhead so distraught before. He softly stroked her hair. "Nell, talk to me."

When she finally looked at him, something about her red-rimmed eyes and forlorn expression melted his heart. He couldn't resist brushing away a stray tear trailing down her cheek. She closed her eyes at his touch and shivered. Then, just as quickly, she sobered and shook her head. "No! Don't do that! Don't be nice to me! I don't deserve it."

Callen pulled his hand away, but remained by her side, waiting for her to continue.

"Ugh, this is so embarrassing!" She ran a hand over her face and took a deep breath. "Remember that fake dating profile my sister created for me? FunandLoveLA? _Weeeeellll_... God, I can't believe I'm telling you this...I..he..it's been a long time, Callen," she winced. "And he was interested. And he was cute. And...I don't get asked out very often. So, I thought, what the heck? I could be the girl who likes imported beer and football for one night, you know?" She leaned her head back against the seat, fresh tears streaming down her face. "Girls like me have to take what they can get, because trust me, guys aren't knocking down my door."

"Maybe you're looking in the wrong place."

Nell's automatic sarcastic response was short-circuited by the intensity of Callen's stare and the determined tone of his voice. Her eyes narrowed for a moment before widening slightly in understanding. "Where should I be looking?" she asked softly, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"Maybe a little closer to home," he replied, as he leaned into her personal space.

Her breath hitched.

"Let's get the hell out of Dodge," Sam's voice boomed as he strode toward the car. "How you doing, Nell?" he questioned as he got into the back seat.

Hazel eyes briefly met crystal blue. "I think I might be okay, now."

Sam smirked as Callen walked around and got in the driver's seat. His eyes met his partner's in the mirror, and as Callen started the engine, Sam thought to himself, "I think you both will."


End file.
